


Sun Beats

by stardropdream (orphan_account)



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Hetalia Kink Meme, M/M, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-23
Updated: 2013-02-23
Packaged: 2017-12-03 09:39:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,343
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/696891
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/stardropdream
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's a hot, sweltering day in the American southwest, and Alfred makes a habit of talking way too much.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sun Beats

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on the Hetalia kink meme and then reposted to LJ November 7, 2010.

“Man, it’s hot,” Alfred said, reclining back in the chair under the large umbrella. 

“So you’ve said,” Arthur replied. Then added, dryly—just as dryly as the hot southwestern heat—suffocating, constricting: “Numerous times.” 

“It feels niiiiice,” Alfred declared. He stretched just slightly until he heard the satisfying pop as his back cracked. He arched his back and sank happily against the deck chair. 

Arthur grunted. He crossed his arms and leaned back in the other chair across from the pool deck’s table, beneath a large umbrella. “I cannot believe that your house is hotter than it is out here.”

“The air conditioning is broken. Damn, if you weren’t such a stickler, you could be enjoying my pool you know,” Alfred protested, waggling his foot in the general direction towards the bright blue, glistening water in Alfred’s backyard pool. 

“Aren’t you good at fixing those kinds of things?”

“Yeah, but I’m lazy. I’ll do it later.” 

Alfred waggled his foot again towards the pool. Arthur stared at the pool moodily before he turned his attention back to Alfred, who watched him with a wide grin, his eyes sparkling over the rims of large, 1970s-inspired sunglasses. 

“I am not a stickler,” he said, primly. 

“Spoken like a true stickler.” 

“Fuck you,” Arthur said, turning his nose up into the air in a true stuck-up fashion Alfred always blamed the Brits for being. 

“I could make you a margarita?” Alfred offered, and lifted up a sweating can of beer as if to demonstrate the wonderful relaxing quality of alcohol. As if he had to demonstrate it further, though, he thought distantly. Arthur probably knew more about alcohol than anyone else Alfred knew. He didn’t need reminding of it being awesome. But still, Arthur did not jump up at the idea of a margarita. Alfred grinned. He took a large gulp from the can and swallowed the bitter ale with a loud, satisfied sigh. “Or a mojito—though Cuba’s’d be better.”

“You aren’t supposed to know that,” Arthur said.

“Meh,” Alfred said with a shrug. 

Arthur’s eyebrow twitched. It was almost fascinating to watch, really—the bushy, unmanageable eyebrow twitching as if it had a mind of its own. Alfred stared at it for a long time, his awesome sunglasses sliding down his nose. 

Alfred took another drink of his beer and released the same self-satisfied sigh.

“… That isn’t convincing me,” Arthur said after a pause. 

“That’s cause you suck and are a stickler.”

“You—”

“Fun-sucker,” Alfred added.

“Why am I even here?” Arthur bitched, rhetorically.

Despite the rhetoric, Alfred felt more than inclined to answer, “Because you’re a fun-sucker and you’re here to ruin my awesome weekend with your grumpiness and secret jealousy of my awesome… everything.” 

Arthur stared at him for a long moment, before he shifted his eyes away, his expression darkening. He scowled at Alfred’s scratchy, unwatered backyard, the grass a dead yellow color from lack of watering. Alfred almost felt bad for making fun of Arthur, until the older nation returned his gaze to Alfred, glaring at him. 

“I’ll leave—and then you’ll have to do all the paperwork yourself.” 

“What—that sucks!” Alfred protested.

“Tough luck, boy,” Arthur said dryly. “It’s what happens when you invite a _fun-sucker_ to your house for the weekend. And here I thought it’d be a relaxing break when really all you want me to do was do _your_ work. And may I remind you—”

“Sorry I can’t hear you!” Alfred announced loudly and jumped up from his chair, but without the grace he’d originally hoped. His knee banged against the table and rattled it across the concrete surrounding the pool. That would leave a bruise. Alfred paid it no mind over the drowning of _LA LA LA LA CAN’T HEAR YOU_ as he kicked off his flip-flops and pulled his shirt off. Before Arthur could open his mouth to protest, Alfred was off, racing across the concrete and jumping majestically into his pool.

Except perhaps not _that_ majestically, as even half-way through midair he still couldn’t decide if he wanted to swan dive or canon-ball and ended up doing something like a belly-flop onto his back (so… a back-flop? He didn’t know). It was painful and Alfred was glad he could just sink to the bottom of the pool and act cool so Arthur wouldn’t discover that that’d actually really fucking hurt. He blew out a few bubbles, screaming a profanity under water just because he could and just because he knew Arthur wouldn’t hear it. 

When he emerged from the water, he whipped his head from side to side, sending ribbons of water tumbling through the air and landing back on the water, sending out ripples. He sighed loudly, and then grinned up at Arthur, who hadn’t moved from his seat under the umbrella. His arms were crossed.

“You forgot to remove your glasses,” Arthur finally said.

“Geez! That’s all you have to say?” Alfred whined, then paddled to the side of the pool, plucking his water-drenched sunglasses from his nose and holding them out for Arthur to take. “Not something like, ‘Wow, Alfred, that was totally fucking cool, I wish I could be like you.’”

“What? Jumping into a pool?” Arthur said, and rolled his eyes in such exaggeration that it was a wonder his eyes hadn’t just rolled out of his head yet. Nevertheless, he stood up and retrieved Alfred’s proffered glasses for him and set them down rather tenderly on the poolside table. Arthur snorted, “That’s hardly something to be jealous over. Little children could have done that better.” 

“My cannonballs cause tsunamis,” Alfred boasted.

“Because you’re so overweight, perhaps,” Arthur said, looking bored as he rested his elbow on the table and leaned against his hand.

Alfred puffed up, feeling his face heat up. “Hey, shut up!” 

Arthur cracked a slightly ironic smile that didn’t sit well with something in Alfred’s gut and to hide the fact that his face _was_ stupidly red, he dove back down under the water and hung out there for a while, just letting himself float—this was what space must feel like. 

Alfred pushed back up to the breathing world above the surface of the water, paddling around lazily, kicking his feet slowly under water and propelling himself around the length of the pool, keeping his eyes on Arthur, who seemed content to _ignore_ him. What a jerk. Alfred sent him a few dirty looks from his dog-paddled exploration of the pool before he settled into a bit more furious-paced kicking and started doing laps from one end of the pool to the other, hoping that some of his kicks were strong enough to splash Arthur up on deck. 

And it was as he was tipping his head to the side to breathe when he saw it—just the slightest flicker of Arthur’s eyes. He was still sitting, rather stubbornly, at his chair, but he’d hooked one foot up onto the chair in an incredibly informal way, something that really didn’t seem to suit the way Arthur usually sat—rigid, straight backed and both feet firmly on the floor. He was leaning against his knee, not looking at him save for the fact that he kind of _was._ Alfred nearly faltered in his swimming, but worried that Arthur would realize he was staring, he kept going. When he gasped for air again, he saw that Arthur _was_ looking at him, back towards him in a sort of way where it wasn’t immediately obvious he was. And perhaps he was just seeing things—hoping to see things—but it definitely looked like he was ogling Alfred. 

“Hey,” Alfred said, abruptly, and ceased his spontaneous exercise to hang his arms over the side of the pool, feeling the gritty concrete digging into the skin of his arms as he crossed them and rested his chin on his forearms. He stared at Arthur, who actually was looking at him full-on now, but looking bored, rather than oggly (was that a word? Alfred wasn’t sure). 

“Hey yourself,” Arthur said, casually, looking positively nonchalant despite the fact that Alfred was pretty sure that Arthur was staring at him like he was a piece of meat (or maybe seafood would be more appropriate). But now he just looked how he always did—like a prickly Brit, with a stick up his ass. “You’ll burn,” Arthur added, frowning. “Just swimming around in the open like that.”

“The water feels nice,” Alfred protested. “And besides, I don’t burn up that easily.” 

“Hmm,” Arthur hummed, then looked away, gliding his finger along the table, undoubtedly creating trails from the condensation slipping off Alfred’s abandoned beer can. “You are rather tan.”

“Aren’t I?” Alfred asked, rhetorically, grinning. He shifted, pushing himself out of the water, purposefully slow just to rub it in Arthur’s face that Alfred had a nice, golden body that was frickin’ _buff_ , too (not overweight, damn it). Obviously Arthur hadn’t been ogling him, he’d just been silently jealous that he didn’t look like Alfred when he took off _his_ shirt. 

Alfred settled himself down on the pool’s edge, keeping his legs in the water up to his knees. He looked over his shoulder up at Arthur. 

“Wanna get me a towel?”

“I do not,” Arthur said, snippy. 

“Aw, come ooooon.”

“You should have thought of that before you went diving in there like a fool,” Arthur declared, and frowned at his hands, refusing to look over at Alfred. Alfred definitely didn’t miss the way Arthur’s cheeks were a bright red.

Alfred shifted, rolling his shoulders, flexing his back just slightly. He debated turning around, just to rub it in Arthur’s face that his abs looked pretty damn good. He refrained from doing so, though, and instead settled on arching his back just slightly, pushing the wet hair from his face as he stared up at Arthur. 

“But the sunscreen’s in the house, too,” Alfred protested. “You don’t want me to get a bad burn, do you? Cause then I won’t be able to concentrate on my work.”

“That’s hardly my problem,” Arthur said with a sniff. “Your attempts at blackmailing have failed you, my lad.”

“You really are a fun-sucker,” Alfred protested. 

Arthur gave him a nasty look and Alfred sighed, stretching out onto his back for a minute. Except the concrete wasn’t very comfortable and stuck to his back, and was also kind of too warm to be totally comfortable. But on the plus side, this way Arthur could totally stare at Alfred’s chest and be totally jealous of how hot Alfred was. Arthur could only wish he was as hot as Alfred. But the concrete kind of hurt, or at least was kind of scratchy. So he sat up again and pulled his legs from the water so he could swivel around and face Arthur. Arthur was still scowling at him, but that was hardly a surprise. Arthur could do one of two things whenever he was around Alfred: bitch until the cows came home, or just scowl at him. It was a rare day when Arthur didn’t look like Alfred had personally pissed in his tea It was an even rarer day when Arthur looked as if he was having a good time at all. All Arthur seemed to do was bitch, and really Alfred was beginning to wonder why he even bothered inviting Arthur places.

Because he kind of liked him, he thought in the back of his mind before he could stop himself, in answer to that RHETORICAL question. And, really, that did him no good at all because Arthur was such a stickler and fun-sucker that it’d be a cold day in hell before Arthur actually ever saw Alfred as anything other than a nuisance or a former charge. Alfred, on the other hand, had suffered many, many years of frustration, feeling the growing interest he had for Arthur slowly, but surely, drifting towards the non-platonic. It left him, most days and nights after spending time with Arthur, frustrated and perhaps a little horny. But that was nothing his right hand couldn’t fix, even if it never was as good as he imagined it’d be to, you know, actually BE with Arthur. And it just constantly left him with questions of _why._ He couldn’t for the life of him understand just why he liked Arthur (though he suspected if he sat down and actually did think long and hard about it, he’d get an answer… but he didn’t really want to sit and think about it). He’d gone through a few years when he’d tried to deny it, tried to convince himself that, no, he did not like Arthur LIKE THAT. It’d been no use, though. And Matt always told him that it was a bad sign when even Alfred could recognize that something was obvious and not going away. 

But that just led him back to his predicament of “we don’t see each other the same way.” It was frustrating. Somehow, something totally obvious to Alfred wasn’t totally obvious to Arthur. Unless it was and Arthur was doing the whole “avoid it and it’ll go away” thing that he was wont to do from time to time. And through it all, it often left Alfred wondering just what, exactly, was so damn interesting about Arthur. But Arthur was hot—that was important. So maybe Alfred just had to get laid—heavens knew he hadn’t for a while—but, again, all he could think of was how much he’d really, really like to get laid by Arthur. 

It was a never-ending cycle and it _sucked._ And not in the good way things could be sucking. 

In any case, Alfred had invited Arthur to some of his houses before in the past, never with anything nefarious in mind. Just to hang out. Arthur didn’t always accept, but when he did, they tended to have a nice time, once Arthur got some alcohol in him. Whenever he didn’t, he tended to just stay in one of his _moods_ and bitch about everything that moved—and usually everything having to do with Alfred and his country. 

“All I want is a towel and some sunscreen,” Alfred said again. “Come on, Arthur. Don’t be such a jerk.”

Arthur crinkled up his nose in distaste. 

“Please?” Alfred asked, seemed to remember a bit belatedly.

Instantly, Arthur looked a bit pacified, but for stubbornness sake, he seemed content to remain under the umbrella. He sniffed. Alfred tried to splash at him, but Arthur was too far away and his scowl darkened.

“If I get wet, that defeats the purpose of going into your house, doesn’t it?” 

“I’d make you mop,” Alfred agreed.

Arthur rolled his eyes skyward, and licked the water he’d collected from the table and beer can off from his fingertips, and Alfred just _stared_ long and hard at the image. Then Arthur sighed, passed his fingers through his hair, and stood up.

“Alright, alright,” he said at last. “I’ll get your blasted towel and your damned sunscreen.”

“And another beer?” Alfred asked hopefully, then remembered to add, “Please?” 

“Fuck you,” Arthur said, decisively, as he walked away, even throwing a rude hand gesture over his shoulder which Alfred sagely decided to ignore. 

With Arthur gone, Alfred breathed a long sigh, and felt himself relax. He flopped back onto his back, and nearly cracked his skull against the concrete for his troubles. He flopped out against the pool deck, sticking his feet back into the water after a bit of maneuvering, his eyes up at the sky. It was a clear, beautiful day. Hot, but not humid. Already the water on his chest had started to disappear with the evaporation, and Alfred felt uncomfortably hot—and told himself it was only because of the sun and not because of anything else. 

Alfred closed his eyes, let himself sink into the ground, absorb the warmth of the sun above him. He’d always liked the sun—and Arthur had time and time again called him a ‘damned sunshine boy’, as if that was some kind of insult when, secretly, Alfred thought it was kind of cute that Arthur called him that. The summer months definitely sun-bleached his hair enough to make it shine pretty golden (something Arthur had also often remarked upon, usually when bitching in one of his _moods_ ). 

His musing were interrupted quickly enough, however, when something blocked his sunlight. At first he thought maybe it was a cloud, but when he opened his eyes, Arthur was frowning down at him, and dropped a towel on his face. 

Alfred grinned behind the fabric and sat up, shoving the towel over his head and scrubbing at his hair, trying to get as much water out as he can. 

“Thanks!” he chirped, and when he poked his head out from behind the towel, for just a moment, he grinned at Arthur and stood up, taking the sunscreen Arthur held out to him. 

“Hm,” Arthur said, and turned away, retreating to the safety of the umbrella and sitting down, two cans of beer in his hand. He set one down on the table beside Alfred’s vacant chair, and popped the cap for his own, taking a long draught from it. 

Alfred arched his back until he felt the pop, and then went back to drying his hair, hiding his blushing face behind his towel. Though, in all honesty, he could easily blame his pink cheeks on the hot sun above him. 

When he peeked out from behind the towel, still drying, he caught the same look again. The not-actually-looking-but-actually-totally-looking look from the side of Arthur’s eyes. He _was_ ogling Alfred—or, more specifically, his chest—and it didn’t appear to be in the _I am so jealous_ way and more of the _wow, you’re hot_ kind of way. Or, perhaps, Alfred was projecting. Arthur’s eyes slanted away quickly enough, so quickly that Alfred was left thinking that perhaps he’d been mistaken again and had only imagined Arthur staring at him. Arthur took a long sip of his drink, and Alfred watched him swallow as something clenched tight beneath Alfred’s ribs, and drifting to settle in a taut ball in the pit of his stomach. To distract himself, Alfred threw his towel onto the chair after he’d dried himself off enough to satisfy his frame.

“You’re gonna have to help me with my back,” Alfred declared. Arthur’s eyebrows rose to hide in his hairline, as he stared at Alfred. Alfred popped the cap of his sunscreen and squirted a liberal amount onto the palm of his hand and started rubbing his hands together. Arthur continued to stare. “Don’t give me that look,” Alfred protested. “I can’t reach my back on my own.” 

Arthur said nothing, just looked away with pink cheeks and a long, long drink from his beer. 

“This stuff tastes like piss,” Arthur said abruptly, never one to let Alfred believe that perhaps he’d progressed beyond his _mood._ When in doubt, insult something. 

“You ruin all my fun, Artie,” Alfred said, then rubbed his hands over his chest, smearing the sunscreen across his already slightly pink, but mostly gold, skin. 

“Don’t call me that,” Arthur reminded, then added, “And I believe it’s my job to ruin your fun.”

“Party-pooper.”

“I believe your words were ‘fun-sucker,’” Arthur amended, “Though I suppose both suffice.” 

Alfred continued to rub his hands up and down his chest, letting his fingers drift below the waistband of his swim trunks just to be safe. He swallowed thickly, watching Arthur glance up at him occasionally, only to lower his gaze quickly before they could make eye contact. Arthur took another drink of his beer, and when a bead of alcohol didn’t make it past his lips and instead slid their way down the can, Arthur quickly followed it, his tongue darting out and dragging its way up the aluminum for just a moment.

The hands on Alfred’s chest froze instantly, and he was pretty sure he swallowed audibly. 

Arthur, for his part, didn’t seem to notice. He kept on drinking, and after a long pause, set the can of beer back down. His eyes shifted up to Alfred, and he frowned.

“What?” 

“Huh?”

“What do you want?” Arthur asked.

“Uh. Nothing,” Alfred said, feeling the warmth creeping over his face and settling on his ears, and then he started whistling a song because that seemed the easiest thing to do in the situation. He finished rubbing in the sunscreen over his chest, and bent down to pick up the bottle again. He started rubbing lotion onto his arms, still whistling. 

Arthur stared moodily at the ground, before he seized the can of beer again and started chugging, drinking down the rest of the alcohol. A little bit of the drink slipped past his lips and down his chin, before he quickly wiped it away. Alfred stared at the way Arthur swallowed, watched the way his adam’s apple bobbed and his throat shifted.

God, it was hot outside. 

“Get my back?” Alfred asked again and thanked everything humanly possible that his voice did not _crack_ because it totally almost did. He stared at Arthur, trying to look imploring without doing whatever it was that Arthur always found obnoxious. 

Arthur sighed, and looked a little frazzled. But probably not as frazzled as Alfred was—with his frizzy towel-dried hair, but with dampened pieces of hair clinging to his sweaty forehead and temples. And Alfred knew his heart was beating fast, just like it always did when the possibility of Arthur coming near him presented itself. Arthur finished his drink, set down the empty can, and stood up, holding out his hand as he approached for the sunscreen. 

Alfred deposited it in his hand and then turned around, presenting his back to Arthur. He closed his eyes, and almost forgot to breathe, as Arthur moved up close to him. There was no breeze, just the hot, baking sun, but Alfred felt the softest touch of Arthur’s shirt against his back as he lifted a hand and brushed the still damp hair away from the nape of Alfred’s neck. His stupid, stupid shirt, hanging loosely and unbuttoned to let more air in. Stupid, sexy Arthur. He probably had no idea what he was doing to Alfred. 

“It’s already a bit pink,” Arthur said softly behind him.

“I don’t burn,” Alfred protested. 

“Idiot,” was all Arthur said, and then a cold hand touched his back. Cold, only because of the sunscreen. 

Alfred shivered. He remembered the way Arthur had licked that can, focused on the way Arthur’s hands touched his back, followed down the bumps of his spine and the curve of his muscles stretched beneath his golden-pink skin. Arthur’s hands glided over his back, his shoulders, the back of his neck. Alfred tried to keep his breathing steady, but Arthur was _touching_ him and all he could think about was the way Arthur’s tongue had dragged along the beer can and the way his shirt clung to his chest in just the right way. His mouth felt too dry.

“It’s damn hot out here,” he heard Arthur mutter.

“Oh, ha ha. Yeah. Man, I thought it was just me,” Alfred said.

Arthur stayed silent and his hands even stopped for a moment on his back, just resting there. Alfred closed his eyes, but he couldn’t really focus on the touch before Arthur was back to rubbing the sunscreen across his back. His fingers were long, spry, dancing across his skin with such elegance. And wasn’t it just like Arthur to make something as simple as applying sunscreen elegant? 

“It’s not just you,” Arthur said at last, his hands drifting over Alfred’s shoulders, thumbs pressing into the back of his neck. It felt nice, almost as if Arthur was going to start massaging his shoulders which would have been _really_ nice. But just as soon as he focused on that thought, Arthur’s hands were drifting back over his back again. 

Alfred forgot to breathe when a hand passed against the small of his back. Alfred kept his eyes shut tightly, but so quickly it was all over and Arthur was patting him on the back gently.

“All done,” he said softly. 

Alfred whipped around, face red, and grinning. “Thanks.”

Arthur, too, looked a bit red-faced, but he quickly enough slanted his eyes away. “Hm. Indeed.” 

Alfred almost started to fidget except that was completely uncool so instead he just lifted his hands and scruffed at his hair, trying to pat it down and fluff it up at the same time. His hair-curl kind of bounced along for the ride, and he grinned a bit sloppily at Arthur in the kind of way he’d perfected, where he smiled maybe a bit ingenuously but it still looked totally genuine.

Arthur was giving him a strange look, though, which wasn’t supposed to happen.

“WOW, it’s hot!” Alfred declared, then quickly jumped into the water to avoid looking Arthur and having Arthur scrutinize him and secretly patronize Alfred in his head. Why did he like the grumpy bastard again?

He swam around underwater and even did a few somersaults before remerging from the water, letting his hair flop around on his face. Arthur was where he’d left him, looking a little petrified or taken aback, staring off at nothing, still holding the sunscreen. He must have felt Alfred’s eyes on him before he seemed to come to himself, shook his head absently, and returned to his chair under the umbrella. 

“You forgot to put some on your face,” Arthur said.

“Huh?”

“Lotion,” Arthur said. “Your face is rather red.”

Alfred bit his lip, before deciding that was too vulnerable a gesture, and instead grinned widely. “Ha ha, yeah. I guess you’re right.” 

“Hm, of course I am.”

“Are you wearing my sunglasses?” Alfred asked abruptly.

Sure enough, Arthur had Alfred’s sunglasses on top of his head. Arthur lifted a hand and felt them, reassuring himself they were still there. “Hm. It was bright.” 

“I guess you shouldn’t squint too much. If you got wrinkles, you really would be a lost cause.”

“That was so funny I’d forgotten to laugh. Fuck you.” 

Alfred, once again, swam over to the pool’s edge. “Are you going to go in the water with me?” he asked, but expected that Arthur would decline, as always. “It’ll be a nice way to cool off.”

Arthur looked at him for a long moment, his expression strangely blank. And then, shockingly, he stood up, his fingers going to the buttons of his button-down. Alfred’s mouth went dry. He watched the way Arthur’s arms moved, slightly hairy, poking out of rolled-up sleeves, and thumbing at the buttons. Three were already undone because of the heat, and the vee of Arthur’s chest was intoxicating. Alfred clung to the pool’s side, completely forgetting to kick his legs. He bobbed uselessly in the water, watching Arthur strip down and _god_ it seemed as if he was going so slowly.

“It is rather warm,” Arthur said as way of explanation, as he shrugged out of his shirt, and draped it over the chair’s back. His skin was rather pale, but not ghostly so. 

“Ha ha,” Alfred said, because he couldn’t think of anything else to say. He rested his chin on the pool’s edge as he stared up at Arthur, watching Arthur toe off his sandals and stand there just a bit awkwardly, under the shade. “And here I thought you were morally against swimming and sunshine.”

“I was a pirate,” Arthur said simply and somehow that single phrase was so stupidly _hot_ that Alfred felt warm all over despite the pleasant chill of his pool. He swallowed thickly, still staring up at Arthur.

“I remember,” Alfred said. “You came home wearing the outfit sometimes—the one that wasn’t the naval uniform.”

There was a long, uncomfortable silence, as the memories from a past they both tended to ignored settled around them. The air suddenly felt too thick, and if they’d been anywhere else in the states, Alfred would have blamed it on the humidity. There was just too much shared history between them, and it settled in the pit of Alfred’s gut and squeezed, painfully. 

Arthur scooped up the sunscreen, still under the umbrella, not looking at Alfred still. Alfred swallowed again, and climbed out of the water, dripping from head to toe and feeling like a stark contrast with Arthur—Arthur, who was absorbing the sun and seeming to smolder. 

“You’ll have to get my back too, I suspect,” Arthur said, dryly, and Alfred was glad for the change in subject.

“Yeah,” Alfred said and god his voice almost cracked that time, too. Arthur hadn’t seemed to notice, though.

They stood in an uncomfortable silence. Then Arthur turned slightly away, ducking his head and concentrating on rubbing sunscreen into his arms. 

“Sit down, I’ll get your back,” Alfred said, picking up his towel and drying his hands, and looking at Arthur’s back.

Arthur stiffened up, just slightly—he saw the tilt of his shoulders—before he slowly sat down, keeping his back to Alfred. Alfred swallowed, and then reached for his beer. He cracked it open and took a long chug before he walked the short distance to Arthur. He sat in the sun now, and the way the sun reflected off his hair was actually really pretty and Alfred silently wondered if maybe the ‘golden sunshine boy’ would be better suited for Arthur, once he actually got some sun to him. He remembered centuries ago when Arthur would come home, and his skin would be darker than Alfred’s own, a warm golden color that seemed to absorb all the light in the world and settle warmly against Alfred’s cheek as he fell asleep against his caretaker.

But that was a long time ago. And Alfred didn’t want to think about it too closely, because those were things he wasn’t yet ready to revisit. He took the sunscreen and let a dollop fall into his hand, before rubbing his hands together. He sat down behind Arthur, and from this distance he could see the sweat collecting at the corners of his temples, sprinkled across his skin. He could see the way his hair fell limply over his face, the way his shoulders sloped, slouched, as if he was carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders when really he hadn’t been the holder of the world in years. 

His hands reached out, and touched his shoulders. 

Arthur shivered. 

“Cold?” Alfred asked.

Arthur didn’t say anything, but his head shifted, as if he was torn between nodding or shaking his head. 

Alfred swallowed, and lowered his eyes, running his hands over Arthur’s skin. He was warm to the touch, and Alfred also shivered, feeling starkly worlds apart, dripping water onto the pool patio, his hands on Arthur but not really _touching_ him. 

“Hey, Arthur…?”

“Yes?” Arthur asked. 

Alfred felt sheepish, almost. There was something about Arthur that made him feel like a kid all over again, and that wasn’t really a good thing. Especially when Alfred was stuck uncomfortably lusting after him. It felt like a false delirium. Or so, so not false that it was almost suffocating. Alfred almost forgot to breathe. 

“Just… uh.” Alfred paused, swallowed thickly. “You have nice skin, ha ha.”

Arthur shifted, tilted his head to the side to peer at Alfred over his back, one eyebrow cocked. 

“I mean, maybe a little pale,” Alfred said, rambled. “But nothing a little vitamin D won’t fix! You’d think you’d have liver spots or something at this point—”

“You little—”

“Or something—from being in the sun all those years ago for so long, ya know? But it’s uh. It’s nice and smooth.” 

Arthur didn’t turn his face away, and just continued to look at Alfred, as if silently judging him. He probably was silently judging him, or at least trying to figure out what the hell was up with Alfred. Alfred himself wasn’t quite sure what was up with him—he blamed the weather. It was too hot, Arthur was too close, and Arthur _wasn’t wearing a shirt._

“Thank you,” Arthur said at last, and turned his face away—but not before Alfred caught sight of the rather uncharacteristic and fond grin Arthur tried to hide. The bottom of Alfred’s stomach dropped out, and he felt floaty. 

“… Yeah,” was all he could manage to say. 

He ran his hands down Arthur’s back. He wanted Arthur to look at him, wanted to hold Arthur’s eyes because really they were too pretty. He couldn’t quite place the shade of green, and Alfred wasn’t one for metaphors or poetic crap like that (that was more Arthur’s thing) but they really were pretty. Too pretty almost. 

So he leaned forward, and his wet chest brushed against Arthur’s shoulder blade, and Arthur stiffened up. 

“Hey,” Alfred said, craning his neck to lean his face over Arthur’s shoulder, so that they were almost pressing cheek to cheek, until Arthur turned to face him. “You should come over more often—get some sun. You’d be beating the American girls off with a stick.”

“I do that anyway,” Arthur said, calmly, but with that small drop of irony in his tone which meant that Arthur was joking.

Even though it was true. Alfred’s people probably dove at the chance to talk with Arthur even if he was a pale fucker—his people loved the accent. And also Arthur was hot. But Alfred always thought that and so he might be kind of biased. 

“I guess so,” Alfred decided. “Maybe you should go hide under the umbrella, then. Don’t want to drown in the ladies.”

Arthur leveled him with a steady gaze. “I’m not interested in things like that.”

Alfred shrugged one shoulder. “Ha ha. Yeah. I guess you don’t seem the type to be that interested in getting laid as much as possible.”

“I didn’t say that,” Arthur said calmly. Then added, as if determined to change the subject, “You better be getting my back properly. If I end up burnt, you will never hear the end of it from me.”

“I never do hear the end of anything from you,” Alfred said, with a dramatic roll of his eyes. His hands slid down Arthur’s spine. “You’re always bitching about something.”

“It’s hardly bitching. Someone around here has to keep an eye on things.”

“And bitch until the cows come home.”

“I haven’t the faintest clue what you’re on about, my dear lad.” 

Alfred almost closed his eyes, reveled in the warmth of the sunshine and Arthur’s oddly affectionate words. But Arthur was looking at him and that was important, and Alfred had to look as manly as possible. His hands slid along Arthur’s sides, following along the arches of his ribs before sliding back behind to his back. 

Their eyes locked, those stupidly beautiful green eyes. They stared straight at him. Alfred leaned in a bit closer, and was silently surprised not to see Arthur retreat. Just stayed there, watching him silently. 

Alfred couldn’t hold the warmth in his chest any longer. It curled and coiled and fluttered in his chest, so all Alfred could do was grin. He smiled widely at Arthur and Arthur stared at him a moment longer. His face shifted, almost like Arthur was going to glare at him or at least give him a stern look. And then he didn’t quite manage it. He didn’t quite smile, either, but there was a slight crease in the corner of his eye as he shifted his gaze away and lifted his hand to pull Alfred’s sunglasses over his eyes, settling them rather snugly on the bridge of his nose. 

Alfred felt as if he would burst into laughter, not a mocking kind. Just elated. And he wasn’t quite sure why he was feeling so giddy and floaty. But he was. 

He reached over and plucked the glasses off Arthur’s nose. Arthur narrowed his eyes.

“Hey.”

“Hey yourself,” Alfred protested, mimicking Arthur’s words from earlier. He grinned, lopsided and all bright sunshine—he could tell because of the way Arthur was squinting. “These are mine.”

“You weren’t wearing them.” 

“What if I wanted to?”

“Then I suppose you have them now, don’t you?” 

“I guess I do.”

His face was still almost uncomfortably close to Arthur’s, but neither of them were pulling away. Arthur’s eyes flickered, just slightly, downwards to Alfred’s mouth before drifting back up to his eyes. Alfred definitely didn’t miss that—and he wondered if Arthur had meant for that to be the case. Or maybe he was just looking too much into things again. Alfred’s heart did a painful thump-thump-thump against his ribcage. 

He leaned in a little bit closer. He was too close, now. Too much. 

But Arthur wasn’t pulling away. But he knew that Arthur noticed, because his eyes widened just a little. 

“My back?” Arthur breathed, lips parting just slightly.

“I’ve got you covered,” Alfred said quietly, his hand sliding up Arthur’s back, feeling the bumps and ancient scars against the skin, but still so smooth. So pretty. So soft. His hand fell along Arthur’s skin, lingered at his lower back without him really fully realizing it until he felt Arthur shift, as if arching into his hand. 

“Hm,” Arthur exhaled, a quiet hum. His eyes slid to half-mast and if there was ever an image that made Alfred crave just jumping Arthur _right then_ , the picture of Arthur staring at him with smoldering, lidded green eyes was certainly it. 

So Alfred leaned in closer, before he could stop himself. He didn’t touch his mouth, but he was close enough now, pressed against Arthur’s back—their noses so close it’d be impossible for Arthur to _not_ realize what Alfred was trying to do. But, still, Arthur did not pull away.

“Alfred?” he asked instead, breathless.

“I…” Alfred murmured, then trailed off because he had no idea what he was doing. And it seemed that everything seemed to settle into his brain and explode, and he almost jerked back in surprise, but he didn’t. He could feel Arthur’s heart beating. He could feel the slick feel of sunscreen between them, his wet chest sliding against Arthur. “Whoa, hey… I uh. I’m about to kiss you.”

And then the words were out in the open. Arthur stared at him, and something flickered in his eyes, as if he was going to pull back, as if expecting that Alfred would be joking. “Yes, I dare say you are.” 

“… Yeah.” Alfred didn’t move. 

Neither did Arthur. “Well…”

“… But you aren’t pulling away.” Alfred couldn’t hide the tint of wonderment in his voice, his eyes widened. 

Arthur’s expression did not change, though his eyes shifted as he studied Alfred’s face, searching for a reason why Alfred should be disingenuous. “No,” he eventually said, simply, his words breathless exhalations but heavy with meaning. “I’m not.” 

“Oh,” Alfred said in a quiet voice. 

They stayed frozen in place, and then it seemed as if they both came together at the same time. Alfred wasn’t sure who initiated it, only knew that Arthur shifted slightly, rotated his body around just a little as his mouth pressed against Alfred and Alfred was _kissing Arthur._

It was really hot outside today. Everything should be blamed on the heat. 

Alfred’s hands grasped at Arthur’s arms, pinned Arthur to his chest and kissed at his lips and his nose and his cheeks and drifted back to his lips again because he was _kissing Arthur_ and that was not supposed to _ever_ happen and yet inexplicably it was happening and Alfred wasn’t about to pull back and pinch himself, because if it was a dream then fuck it, it would be a dream. But the soft _mmm_ from Arthur’s exhalation against his mouth, the parting of his lips as he breathed in the thick, dry air and it just felt too great. Too much at once. Alfred was drowning. 

Arthur kissed him back with lips that made to swallow all of Alfred’s air. He kissed at his mouth, pillowed their mouths together until there was no air to breathe and Alfred could have been knocked over with a feather. Arthur certainly took up the challenge of _kissing senseless._ Senseless. There was nothing but Arthur’s mouth on him, breathing life into his tired limbs. 

Arthur shifted his hands, wrapped his fingers into Alfred’s hair and kept him tethered to his lips, kept him from falling away and kissing any part of Arthur he could because he’d wanted to kiss him so long and this must mean that maybe Arthur had wanted to kiss him for a while, too. Arthur’s fingers held tight to his hair and Alfred was fine with that because he had no intention of getting away if it meant Arthur would keep kissing him and not shove him into the pool. Arthur’s breath pillowed against Alfred’s mouth and Alfred parted his lips and just kept kissing him, feeling the already hot air between them heating up and feeling a bit sticky.

Arthur turned around completely, so that it wasn’t an awkward angle for him and pressed against Alfred, pushed against him until Alfred was on his back and the annoying concrete bits were digging into his back but he couldn’t honestly give less of a fuck if it meant that Arthur was on top of him and kissing him, chest pressed to chest. 

But they had to pull away eventually, and Arthur kind of did so abruptly, blinking his eyes open wide as if he’d totally forgotten he’d just kissed Alfred within an inch of his life and Alfred was not only cool with that, he kind of wanted a round two. 

“Christ,” Arthur breathed.

“Yeah,” Alfred agreed. “Well… I, uh. I think you’ve got enough sunscreen on. Ha ha ha, don’t get burned or anything now. Ha ha,” Alfred said, staring dazedly up at Arthur, and the sun was backlighting him in a way that was actually quite pretty and Alfred thought that he could quite easily spend all afternoon watching Arthur. 

Arthur stared at him back, calmly, but Alfred could see the color creeping up his face

“Yes. Well. Quite.” He cleared his throat and looked away.

And then Arthur was pulling away from him and Alfred had no idea what he’d done but he sat up after Arthur. Arthur stood up, dusting off his hands and scooping up the sunscreen. He started applying it to his chest and Alfred could only stare.

And stare some more.

And then got embarrassed about the staring and had to stare somewhere else but the only place else to stare was Arthur’s crotch or something equally as dumb and that was a really dumb idea. So he stood up and plopped his way towards the pool. He slipped into the shallow end, unsure what he’d done but feeling as if his face would never stop being bright red.

He stayed in the shallow end of the pool so he could do handstands on the bottom, his legs free to kick around in the air as he screamed profanities into the water and unleashed a brigade of bubbles. The water served well to get rid of his semi-erection he’d gotten just from _kissing_ Arthur, and the fact that Arthur had gotten him hard that easily was kind of embarrassing. Alfred feared for his ability to outlast—

Not that outlasting was even on the table. There was nothing to outlast. 

So he contented himself with swimming and doing handstands. Except when he emerged, Arthur was right there, sitting on the edge, his feet in the water, and staring straight at Alfred.

“Oh,” Alfred said, and not one for understatement said, “Hey.” 

“Hello,” Arthur said calmly, staring straight at him. 

“Um…”

“Come here,” Arthur commanded.

Alfred, for once, did as he was told and came over toward Arthur, wading through the water, his hair clinging to his face until he pushed the wet mop out of his eyes. 

“Hi,” Alfred said when he’d stopped right in front of Arthur.

Arthur leaned in close, lifting a hand and tracing his fingers under the line of Alfred’s jaw, curling around his chin.

“Alfred.”

The younger nation’s breath caught, halted by that single commanding word. His name. His name in Arthur’s voice, darkened and made scratchy with lust. 

Alfred inhaled sharply. 

“Yes?”

“Answer me honestly,” Arthur said, and his eyes really were smoldering. 

“Kay,” Alfred said. “What?”

“Are you out of your mind?”

Alfred almost reared back, but Arthur didn’t sound accusing, just… nervous? Maybe. Alfred couldn’t tell, and besides, the way Arthur was staring at him as kind of making him hard again. 

“No?” Alfred guessed.

Arthur frowned at him. 

“What? I’m not crazy,” Alfred protested.

“That’s not what I’m asking.” 

“What are you asking?” 

“Are you mocking me? With all that?” Arthur asked. 

“With what?”

“You know what!” Arthur snapped, angrily, his voice almost raising to shouting level. 

Alfred recoiled. “Wha—”

“Because,” Arthur said, calmer now, his expression tight as if ready to just spring up and run. “If you… meant that, I have absolutely no intention of letting you bum around in the water and do handstands like a child.” 

Alfred stared at him, tried to speak, and found that words kind of were failing him at the moment. But that was hardly a surprise, if he was honest. It seemed Arthur was content with making Alfred speechless, which, really, never happened. 

But the boy frowned, and he lifted a hand, touching the wrist under his chin, felt Arthur’s fingers slide against his wet skin. “If I said that I meant it, what would you do?”

Arthur stared at him. “It certainly wouldn’t be anything decent.” 

He said it surprisingly nonchalant but he could see the tension in Arthur’s shoulders. Despite the cool way he spoke, he was ready to bolt if necessary. So Alfred swallowed, and shifted a bit closer. The water rippled away from him, and he felt far too cold all of a sudden. He needed Arthur to make him feel warm and floaty again. 

“Do you want me, too, Arthur?”

“Too.” It came out as a question. 

“Yeah. Too.” 

Alfred stared up at him, and did not break his gaze away. Arthur’s expression flickered, and that flicker was answer enough so Alfred pushed up and kissed Arthur, his hands falling to Arthur’s hips, gripping tightly. He pushed closer, tucked himself between Arthur’s legs, thought about pulling him into the water but the last thing he wanted was for Arthur to start bitching about something that was supposed to be nice. 

Arthur drew him closer, lifted his hands to cup Alfred’s face and guide him to his mouth. Their faces slanted together, so that their noses bumped just slightly before their mouths were pressed together as if they’d always been there and were meant to be there. 

“Mmm,” Arthur murmured against his mouth and Alfred was inclined to agree, if only his heart would stop doing that floppy-flop in his gut. He pulled away, breathing against his mouth, “You taste like chlorine. It’s disgusting.”

“Ha ha,” Alfred laughed, breath puffing against Arthur’s lips, and pulled at Arthur’s hips, trying to entice him to join him in the water. 

Arthur pulled away from his mouth, kissed at his jaw and slipped into the water so that he pressed up to Alfred rather blissfully. He kissed down Alfred’s throat and Alfred could feel the hot patches of air pulsing against the wet slick of his neck. His breathing came faster. The feel of Arthur’s breath and lips against his skin was enough to send the blood pulsing through his body, every screaming inch. He trembled, just slightly—except that wasn’t nearly manly enough, and he disguised the shaking by simply wrapping his arms around Arthur’s waist and tugging. 

Arthur seemed to take Alfred’s hint, or took it a step further than Alfred had initially intended but didn’t mind one bit—Alfred felt Arthur’s hand snug its way down his back, resting against the small of his back, before slipping below his swim trunks and Alfred’s breath did hitch and if he had been saying anything, he definitely would have squeaked or voice cracked and then he would have died on the spot, all without ever getting the chance to sleep with Arthur. 

Arthur’s hand slipped beneath Alfred’s swim trunks and grabbed at his ass and—oh. That was nice, yeah. 

“Oh,” Alfred said, gasping quietly as Arthur pressed them crotch-to-crotch. It was kind of reassuring to know that Alfred wasn’t the only one who was kind of hard. 

“Hm,” Arthur hummed in agreement, and rolled his hips in a way that was definitely intentional. “How firm.”

“Ha ha, thanks?” Alfred asked, laughing despite himself. 

Arthur dragged Alfred closer, shoving a leg between Alfred’s legs and pushing up until his knee pressed against the growing bulge in Alfred’s swim trunks and Alfred gasped again. Arthur kissed Alfred from ear to chin, then up to bite at his bottom lip. And who the hell even knew that Arthur could be a hot bastard like that? (Alfred had always secretly hoped.) 

This was a lot better than Alfred had hoped it’d turn out. After all those years of thinking it and—well. Arthur was definitely making things hotter. The water was kind of doing nothing in that respect, especially with Arthur’s knee rotating a sinful circle against Alfred’s crotch. 

“So, this is goin’ pretty fast,” Alfred said, cheerfully.

Arthur paused, pulling his face away from Alfred’s neck and giving him a mystified look. “Shall I stop?”

“What? Oh! No… no, keep going,” Alfred said, still just as chipper as before, and beamed. “Um. Yeah. Keep going.” 

“Alright,” Arthur murmured, and did not need to be told twice. His fingers twisted in Alfred’s swim trunks and tugged down, hand smoothing along the curve of Alfred’s ass and over the back of his thighs. 

Alfred clenched his eyes shut, and felt his jaw clench to keep from moaning from just that simple touch. He was wreck. He stepped out of his swim trunks and they floated rather pleasantly across the surface of the water, as if mocking him. 

“Hm,” Arthur murmured, hand smoothing over Alfred’s thigh, expression almost stoic if not for the red cheeks. “The water won’t be much help here.”

“Ha ha… gonna get water in weird places,” Alfred laughed.

Arthur gave him a sharp look. 

“Inappropriate places,” Alfred laughed again, grinning ear to ear.

“Damned boy, stop looking so thrilled.”

“Should I look unhappy about this?” Alfred asked, and his smile cracked at the edges, afraid that _now_ he would wake up or Arthur would change his mind or realize that he couldn’t possibly do this with Alfred of all people.

But instead, Arthur rolled his eyes and his face took on a touch of that smile before, the one that Arthur hadn’t meant for Alfred to see. Arthur leaned up and kissed Alfred’s mouth, surprisingly tender and chaste. Alfred was happy to return the kiss, smiling against Arthur’s mouth. 

“There are stairs,” Alfred said, inclining his head towards the steps leading in and out of the water. “If you’re so lazy you don’t want to get out of the water.” 

“Would you rather—”

“The concrete hurts my back,” Arthur interrupted.

Arthur gave him a blank look, but the way the swirling of his knee against Alfred’s crotch sped up a bit made Alfred think that Arthur was anything but blank. “I was thinking more along the lines of a bed, but it seems you’re the impatient one,” Arthur said calmly. “My lad.” 

“We are not going into the house and getting everything wet and dirty and chlorine-y.” 

“You realize your pool will need to be cleaned if we do it here.”

“Just shut up and kiss me,” Alfred whined, and Arthur obeyed him, stepping closer to Alfred and pushing the other nation back. Alfred let himself be led, backing his way up towards the stairs. So that solved that problem, it seemed. 

Alfred was on top of the world. It was like a birthday-independence day-Christmas-superbowl all wrapped up into a super awesome day. And the water was warm now, the sun was beating down, and Arthur was _kissing_ him. Things were just perfect. 

The back of Alfred’s knees hit the stairs and he flopped down, feeling kind of awkward just sitting there, naked, in the water. Not that he’d never skinny-dipped before. Just not with Arthur, and not when Arthur was kissing him. But Arthur slipped himself quite comfortably between Alfred’s legs and ran his hand down his chest as he kissed him. 

Arthur pulled away, though, and Alfred missed him being so close instantly. But Arthur wasn’t going far, because one hand was hooking at the swim-trunks he wore and the other hand was stretching across the concrete without actually having to leave the water so he could grab the abandoned bottle of sunscreen on the pool deck. 

Oh.

… Oh. 

“Oh,” Alfred said. 

Arthur looked over at him, eyebrows cocked, and god he shouldn’t look as hot as he did. Arthur slipped off his swim trunks and left them abandoned on the patio. 

_Fuck,_ was he hot. 

Arthur’s green gaze was darkened with lust as he approached Alfred again and he slid up to Alfred, one hand cradling Alfred’s cheek, fingers digging into Alfred’s hair. Dark and intent and Arthur was breathing harshly. He could feel the puff of air against his neck as Arthur bent his head and started kissing at Alfred’s neck. He could see Arthur’s chest visibly moving with his quick, rapid breathing. It was intoxicating, the touch of Arthur’s mouth against his skin, the sound of his breathing. It was all unreal. 

Alfred couldn’t help it—he laughed a little.

Arthur pulled away a little, his expression quickly drifting towards scowling.

Fearing what would happen if Arthur got in one of his _moods_ when they were heading towards some really, really exciting activities, Alfred shook his head quickly. “Sorry. It’s just weird. That this is happening now.” 

“Oh?”

“I hadn’t expected this when I invited you over for the weekend.”

“Indeed?” Arthur murmured, leaning in close again to kiss at Alfred’s jaw. Alfred felt Arthur’s hand drag down his chest, slip over his hip, and rest on his thigh. Alfred juts wanted him to actually grasp his cock, but he didn’t.

“Yeah,” Alfred breathed.

“You’ve thought about this before.”

“Duh,” Alfred said, then cleared his throat. “I mean—uh. Sure. Yeah. I guess.” 

“Turn around,” Arthur murmured.

“Huh?”

Arthur popped the cap on the sunscreen to serve as a promise. Alfred’s eyes widened, and he nodded.

“Right—ha ha. Yeah.”

He turned around, felt his face flush a little. He lifted himself out of the water, so only his legs below the knees were in the water, his hands planted against the concrete, the grittiness digging into his palms. 

“Hurr,” Alfred said. “This is weird.” 

“Oh?”

“Yeah,” Alfred said, and looked over his shoulder as Arthur dragged himself closer to Alfred, hand sliding over his back. Alfred closed his eyes for a moment before deciding he didn’t want to miss what Arthur did and blinked his eyes open again. Arthur was looking at him with that smoky smoldering green eyed look. Alfred licked his lips and added, “I feel weird.” 

“You’re perfectly lovely, Alfred,” Arthur murmured.

“Well that’s good to know! Cause if you thought I was ugly and you were fucking me anyway, that’d be kind of awkward.” 

“Pointing out something’s awkward doesn’t help with the awkwardness,” Arthur scolded in a scratchy voice. 

“Sure it does! Means you can address it.” 

“Whatever you say, my dear lad.”

“I do—”

Whatever Alfred was going to say was cut short when Arthur pushed a sunscreen-slicked finger into Alfred’s ass and pushed in deep. Alfred let out a soft _ah_ from surprise, and ducked his head, wet fringe flopping into his eyes. 

Then Alfred started to laugh. “When you told your boss you’d be spending this weekend in America, did you mean it this literally?”

“Oh my days… shut the fuck up.” 

Alfred spread his legs a little, to give Arthur a little more leverage. Arthur moved his finger, hooked it, and Alfred felt his breath come out in short puffs of air. 

“I thought it was funny,” Alfred said. 

Arthur leaned in and kissed at his shoulder. “Perhaps,” he consented. “Only a little.” 

“I win,” Alfred said, triumphant. 

“Don’t let it go to your head.” 

“I do what I want!” 

“Don’t I know it,” Arthur murmured, and pushed in a second finger to join the first. 

He stroked for a while, and then Alfred hitched his back and gasped, “Ah—oh. Wow. There?”

Arthur pressed closer, kissing at Alfred’s back as he pushed his two fingers in again, hitting a spot near his prostate that made Alfred’s toes curl and his breath come out in even heavier, shorter pants. He rolled his hips, trying to force Arthur’s hand further, trying to make Arthur come closer. 

But he could hear the squeeze of the sunscreen, and Arthur’s hand left him.

“Hey…” Alfred began.

“Hush, I’m here,” Arthur said, and the words actually were surprisingly comforting, so Alfred just arched his back and leaned forward, feeling really very exposed and kind of awkward, but then he could feel something that wasn’t Arthur’s fingers nudging against his ass and he bit his lip for a second before letting out a sigh.

“Arthur...”

Arthur didn’t respond, save for the slightest shift of his hips and the head of his cock, slick, pushing into Alfred. Alfred tightened up until he forced himself to relax. 

Arthur’s fingers snuck up his back, over his shoulders, and one curled around his chin, forcing his face up, and, along with it, the rest of his body, until Alfred’s back pressed against Arthur’s chest, and Arthur’s cock nudged its way quite snuggly into Alfred’s tight heat. Alfred clenched his eyes shut, and felt himself relaxing slowly, even as Arthur kissed at his neck and the outer shell of his earlobe.

“Tell me if it’s too much,” Arthur murmured in his ear.

“It’s good,” Alfred whispered, felt as if his heart would burst. 

The water pulsed around them as Arthur set a steady, yet somehow haphazard, pace. He thrust up into Alfred and Alfred’s body shook and rattled and he gasped quietly, clenching at nothing because he wasn’t sure what to hold onto. His body swiveled and melted against Arthur’s commanding hold, as Arthur thrust rather harshly up into Alfred’s willing, loose body. 

“Arthur,” he breathed again, tilting his head back and feeling stupidly wanton but _god_ he’d wanted Arthur for so long it was kind of overwhelming to know that Arthur was _in_ him and fucking him. In his pool, no less. 

God, he’d have to clean the water after this. 

“I really am going to get water in all the wrong places,” Alfred said with a breathless laugh.

“You’re impossible,” Arthur said, with no bitterness in his voice.

Alfred laughed again, grinned, and pushed back against Arthur. “You going okay?”

“Me?” Arthur asked, and couldn’t hide the surprise in his voice.

“Yeah,” Alfred repeated.

Arthur angled his cock hard into Alfred, and Alfred let out a quiet gasp.

“Shouldn’t I be asking you that?”

“Obviously I’m okay. I’m great,” Alfred said, and laughed. “You?”

“Yes, you silly boy,” Arthur said, and when Alfred looked over his shoulder, Arthur was kind of smiling a little. Alfred felt his heart swell into his throat at seeing such a smile, as if being called a ‘silly boy’ was a compliment. Knowing Arthur, it probably was a term of endearment. “I’m fine,” Arthur said. “Quite well, actually.” 

“Oh good,” Alfred said with a nod. 

“Is it?”

“Well it’d kinda suck if you weren’t having a good time,” Alfred said, and rolled his eyes for good measure.

“Cocky bastard.”

“No, I think that’s you,” Alfred said, and grinned, then gasped loudly when Arthur shook his frame just with a thrust up into Alfred’s body. “Ah—oh. _Arthur._ ” 

“Quiet—won’t your neighbors hear?”

“What neighbors?” 

“Hrm,” Arthur grunted. 

“Hah,” Alfred panted, and thrust back to meet Arthur’s own movements. 

“Oh…” 

Arthur almost stumbled a little, back into the water, just from the force of Alfred thrusting back. Alfred forgot his own superhuman strength sometimes, and sometimes Arthur forgot it, too. He lost his footing, just briefly, and slipped away from Alfred. Alfred blinked at him, watched him fall back into the water a bit, and then kind of stumbled after him, grabbing Arthur’s wrist and tugging him close again. Arthur let himself be tugged, up the steps. 

Alfred shoved him down onto the steps, grinning at him, leaning down and kissing him. They were both still hard. 

“Hey—” he began. 

“You really do want me,” Arthur said, as if Alfred letting Arthur fuck him wasn’t proof enough of that. Alfred rolled his eyes again in a _duh_ kind of way. 

“What? Obviously.” 

“You’re elated.”

“Elated’s a good way to put it, yeah.” 

They kind of stumbled together after that, both unsure where to go, what position to settle on—the old one, or not? It ended up being with Arthur sitting there on the steps while Alfred kind of hovered over him, biting his lip in a kind of absent-minded kind of way. Arthur was studying his face—the slope of his eyes, the bite of his cheekbones, the quiet curving of his lips (the only thing about him that was quiet). 

“God,” Arthur breathed as Alfred seated himself over Alfred, pushing Arthur’s cock back up into him as he settled his knees on either side of Arthur’s hips. Arthur’s hands lifted, cupped Alfred’s cheeks. “Dear lad, sweet lad. You’re lovely.”

“So you’ve said,” Alfred said, face flushing with happiness and lust. 

Arthur pulled him down for a kiss, and whispered other such sentiments against Alfred’s lips until Alfred was pretty sure he’d lose his hard-on because all the blood was rushing to his face. Arthur mouthed the words soundlessly against Alfred’s mouth, and Alfred was okay with that because he knew he was pretty great and if Arthur admitted to that, too, then all the better. 

“You make me so hot,” Alfred mumbled, doing Arthur a favor and cutting his unspoken words off before he said something that Arthur wasn’t ready to say, couldn’t say out loud.

Arthur pulled away to blink at him, and then his eyes sank to half-mast.

“You always have,” Alfred said. “Walking around in your sweater-vest thing.”

“Ha ha.”

“I’m serious though,” Alfred whispered as he started lifting himself up against Arthur’s cock and swiveling his hips downward, setting a rhythm. “Sometimes I could just lick you when you wear a suit.”

“Lick me.”

“Yeah.”

“How enticing.”

“Yeah, I know.” Alfred grinned. “It’s kind of dumb, I know.”

“It’s not,” Arthur murmured. “It’s alright, my dear.” 

Alfred grinned some more, felt as if he’d never stop grinning now. 

Arthur stretched him open as he pushed into him, seemed to rip him in two but it was perfect, it was wonderful—it was Arthur. Arthur was kissing him, murmuring quiet _dear lord_ and _sweet Alfred_ and the ilk. He seemed almost overwhelmed, as if he’d start murmuring really embarrassing things at any moment, because Alfred was just too hot inside for him. 

“Do you want me?” Arthur whispered.

“Duh,” Alfred said, and grinned, leaning in to kiss the corner of Arthur’s mouth, to reassure him. “This is a bit far to take a joke, old man.”

“Hrm,” Arthur said, and looked as if he was going to protest the ‘old man’ comment before Alfred kissed him again.

He’d normally be way too embarrassed to ever answer something like that, but the words settled in his stomach and glowed and he felt floaty and perfect and Arthur— _Arthur_ —was fucking him. 

“I want you,” he whispered against Arthur’s mouth, and then kissed at his neck and bit at his ear. He whispered, breathless and hot against Arthur’s ear, “God, yeah. I do. I do. Arthur. Please.”

Arthur looked as if he could say something more, and Alfred just met his eyes. Smoldering green. His must be a smoldering blue, a dark, stormy blue. But then again, Alfred was never one for poetic metaphor crap, not when he was fucking Arthur. He hissed a quiet gasp as Arthur’s cockhead struck that spot again, and he boosted his hips against Arthur’s, making him nudge further into him, quick and breathless thrusts. 

“Yes, yes, yes, yes,” Alfred gasped.

“I might have known even in these situations you never keep your mouth shut,” Arthur marveled.

“Just letting you know I like it,” Alfred whispered, and the water splashed around them. 

“Good,” Arthur breathed, and somehow he made that single word sound achingly genuine and heart-breaking, and Alfred instead focused on just pumping his body up and down on Arthur’s cock.

And the pit of warmth was coiling tightly in his gut, and he knew he wouldn’t last long and he had no way of knowing how long Arthur was going to last and damn it, Arthur really was going to outlast him, wasn’t he?

“The water’s making the slickness go away,” Alfred said, intelligently. 

“Water tends to do that,” Arthur drawled, though the effect was slightly lost by the breathless way he spoke. “It makes for a terrible lubricant.”

“Then hopefully you’re done soon so I don’t have a sore ass later.”

Arthur’s hand curled around Alfred’s cock, and Alfred’s breath came out in a gasping rattle.

“Indeed,” Arthur agreed, and flicked his wrist, pumping Alfred’s cock in time with his thrusts.

And it was too much for Alfred and with a startled cry that surprised even him, he came. Ribbons of cum splashed out of his cockhead and gummied across Arthur’s fingers, curling around his knuckles and sliding across Arthur’s chest. Alfred panted, staring, writhing, grinding his body down against Arthur. He knew he was saying incoherent, babbling things but he didn’t think Arthur was really listening because he was just thrusting with abandon up into Alfred and Alfred didn’t care at all because it felt so nice.

But he did hear Arthur breathe a quiet, “Alfred,” before he felt a flood of warmth fill him and he knew that Arthur had reached his climax, too.

“Ah,” Alfred panted, moaned, flopped uselessly against Arthur’s equally pliant form.

Fingers stroked at his spine. Alfred would have mewled in happiness, except that was totally unmanly and even with Arthur’s cock up his ass, he had a little bit of dignity to maintain. So he just sighed instead, and pressed his face into Arthur’s hair. It hadn’t gotten that wet, just the edges, and it smelled nice. Arthur smelled nice. Arthur was nice in general—except maybe his attitude (especially during one of his _moods_ ). 

Alfred kissed at Arthur’s jaw. 

“Hm,” Arthur sighed. 

Alfred was all sunshine and grins again, and he perked up. 

“So,” Alfred said, face red. “How long have you wanted to do that?”

Arthur stared at him, before flopping back against the pool stairs, letting his hair sink into the water. He stared up at the sky for a long moment before Alfred grew impatient and caged over his body, blocking his view with a wide, slightly smug smile. 

“Come on, tell me.”

“You tell me first.”

“But it’s embarrassing!”

“Exactly.”

Alfred sighed, and snuggled closer, nosing at Arthur’s chin before he could coax Arthur to kiss him. 

“I’ll take that as ‘a long-ass time, now stop looking so hot,’” Alfred said. “Is that how I should take that?”

“Perhaps.”

“Then that’s how I’ll take it.” 

“You do that,” Arthur murmured, and closed his eyes. Alfred leaned in and kissed him and was perfectly content.


End file.
